


Bad company and I can't deny it.

by Neutralchaos



Series: Oh Brock, when will you learn? [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, D/S everywhere, Excessive use of the word fuck, Face-Fucking, IT'S EVERYWHERE, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, it's these two what are you expecting puppies and rainbows?, no really, who am I kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6632002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neutralchaos/pseuds/Neutralchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock thinks that just because Jack is working that he can get away with being a cocky shithead. He should really know better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you know better

**Author's Note:**

> So, This is going to be part one of a series, that was originally going to one single story but I'm still having trouble figuring out to make it flow properly. So they will be connected, but the there might a space of time in between them.
> 
> Thank you to Hobbitual for betaing this for me :D because they are awesome and wonderful.

                  Jack was fucking furious. Rumlow, that little shithead, had somehow managed to pawn off all of the reports that HE was supposed to turn in, on Jack. How he did it, well, Jack was still trying to figure that out, because Jack fucking hated filling out paperwork. Yeah, sure he did his own, got it in on time and everything, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed doing it. And now he was stuck doing Brock’s, that was, to top it off, due today. Jack was going to fucking kill him. So when the said shithead, sauntered into HIS office like he owned the place, Jack was already on a short fuse. Deciding to ignore the manipulative fucker, Jack tried to deeply engage himself in mindless typing and it worked. For awhile. Then Brock had sat down across from him and started making overtly sexual comments to him, progressively getting louder with each one. After the nineteenth one or so (the others he had heard but ignored), Jack finally glanced up at him with one eyebrow raised, carefully schooling his expression, so Brock didn’t get the idea that he was starting to get under Jack’s skin.

 

“Oh, so you can hear me,” Brock remarked with a little smirk across his face when Jack’s eyes met his. The other man was lounging in the chair across from his arms crossed, actually having the audacity to pout at him. Like he couldn’t figure out why Jack was ignoring him.

 

“Are you really just fucking sitting there shouting pornographic things at me for no reason? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Jack sighed.

 

“I’m not shouting,” Brock said (just a little petulantly) “and no, you’re the best thing I can think of to do at the moment. So get off the fucking computer and we can hop right up on to this wonderful desk right here,” gesturing at Jack’s desk, that sat between them, “and get to doing.”

 

Jack looks down at the desk. It was a little bigger than the counter they had ended up on last time, but still, it looked just as hard and uncomfortable. Besides he was  **_Busy_ ** and not in the mood to fucking stop just because Brock decided that he was bored.  _ Which he might not be if, he was doing his OWN FUCKING WORK,  _ Jack thought. “Sorry,” he said with a small glare, “ you’ll just have to come back, Never, you shithead. Kinda in the middle of something,” as he pointedly looked at the screen to continue typing.

 

“ Is that any way to address your C.O.? Besides I know you like to pretend you’d rather work than let me fuck on as many different surfaces that I can find ( _ you cocky little fucker!)  _ But you can’t deny me forever and I’m not going anywhere,” as Brock decides to stand up and shove his

hands into his pockets.

 

Jack VERY pointedly does not look up from the screen in front of him. “I can, in fact, deny you forever. And for the record,  _ Commander,  _ all you’re going to accomplish by pestering me is make me angry. Then I know for sure,  _ one _ of us will not be having any fun.”

 

He hears a light tap, as if something had fallen onto the desk and he looks up. Brock is now leaning over the desk, just shy of getting into Jack’s personal space, and has set a fucking bottle of lube down right next to the mouse.

“I came prepared to make you come,” he says as if it was an inevitability.

 

“Really? You think, just because you brought lube with you and you’re staring at me, I’m gonna drop everything, forget that this is YOUR fucking mess I’m cleaning up, and let you do whatever you want with me?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Forget it Brock. Take your lube and go fuck right off because I couldn’t give a shit what you do right now,” Jack says as he resumes typing.

 

“I can make you come so hard you forget your name,” Brock tries.

 

Jack simply continues typing, ignoring Brock’s comments, hitting the keys a bit harder in his irritation.

 

“You’re gonna beg me to fuck on every fucking surface in this damn building,” Brock says getting bolder as Jack continues to ignore him.

 

Jack pauses to take a deep breath. Brock’s cockiness is really starting to get on his fucking nerves, like the damn kid has forgotten who OWNS his ass. He was assuming that because they were at work Jack would forget that little fact. And, _ oh fuck no, _ that is not how that worked. Brock should know better than that too. But if he let Brock know just how much it was getting to him, then  _ nothing _ would get done and as much as Jack hated the fact that he was doing Brock’s work, he liked to finish what he started, damnit.

 

“And when I’m done fucking you in every possible position in every fucking location, maybe, if you ask nicely ( _ oh fuck no, that little shit is getting way too confident in Jack not responding to him)  _ I’ll let you fuck me. But only if you’re really goo-” 

 

“Take your fucking clothes off,” Jack finally snaps, closing down the computer and starting to put the keyboard and mouse away.

 

If Brock’s eyebrows went any higher they would’ve disappeared into his hair. He’s been staring at Jack the whole time, and he never stopped looking at the screen in front of him. Completely ignoring every innuendo and outright proposition Brock had thrown at him. Jack lifts his head to look stare directly at Brock, his chest rising and falling much quicker than it was awhile ago. His eyes are completely dark, the green almost gone, and he just looks  _ so fucking dangerous. _

 

“Uh, what?” Brock says, uncertainty clouding his voice, trying to gauge exactly how much trouble he was in now. Trying to figure if he should run or follow orders like a good boy.

 

“I said, take. Your. Fucking. Clothes. Off,” Jack barked, enunciating each word carefully, “and get one the fucking desk, you little cocksut. Goddamn lucky you brought some fucking slick for yourself,” he says as he slams the desk drawer shut, taking not a small amount of satisfaction in Brock’s flinching.

 

_ FUUUUUUCK, _ Brock thinks as he stands uncertainly, unsure of if he wants to do this here. Where they work, and anyone can walk in on what's about to happen. He stands up straight and quickly sneaks a look over at Jack, quickly determining from the look on the other man’s face that he is not kidding around at all.

 

Jack stands up from his chair and starts to walk around the desk to where Brock is standing. Brock quickly starts to throw his clothes off as fast as he possibly can, Jack simply taking his sweet time by stopping to take his watch off, before continuing the short trek around the desk. By the time Jack reaches the side Brock is on, he looks just like an axe murderer that found a gang of teenagers alone in the woods, and Brock had just managed to scurry out of his clothes. He hops onto the table and looks over at Jack, eagerly waiting to hear what to do next. Brock is having trouble remembering the last time he felt so damn nervous and afraid…. Or turned on.

 

“Get on your hands and knees.” And Brock does as he’s told, trying to avoid punishment, and hears Jack undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. Nothing else seems to be getting discarded from Jack’s body and fuck, if that isn’t the biggest turn on ever. From his position, he sees from the corner of his eye, Jack’s big hands grab the bottle of lube and after that everything goes from slow motion to hyper speed. 

_ Oh fuck, did I ever managed to piss him off. _

 

Jack grabs his thighs and roughly shoves them apart, the flesh of his knees skidding across the wooden surface, but Brock doesn’t even dare to open his mouth to complain for even a second. Before he knows it Jack is shoving a,  _ thankfully, _ lubed up finger into him and, for a moment, Brock tenses before closing his eyes and trying to relax. Much too soon, another finger follows the first, and Brock barely has time to realize that they’ve been pulled out before Jack shoves his way into his hole without giving Brock anytime to adjust to his girth.

 

“Ohhhhhhhhh, f-fuuuuuuck….” Brock manages before Jack reaches forward and grabs his thighs, pulling towards Jack’s own legs. Once their bodies are pressed close together, Jack starts to thrust, deep and quick into Brock. And Brock for his part, just drops his mouth open, squeezes his eyes shut and whines, “F-fuck, Jack….fuck…”

 

“Gonna fuck you so hard, you forget your own fucking name, so you don’t forget who own your fucking ass,” Jack growls into Brock’s ear, leaning over the smaller man as Brock whimpers.

 

Jack continues to thrust into him as hard as he can, until Brock thinks he can’t take any more. 

“J-Jack… please… T-t-touch me...I c-can’t, I need t-to….FUCK.” Jack stops any/all movement and for a moment Brock is worried about what’s coming next.

 

Jack reaches underneath him and wraps his large hands around Brock’s throbbing cock but doesn’t move anymore than that. “Ask me nicely.” Jack breathes into his ear.

 

“P-Please, please, Sir, please, let me come!” Brock cries, tears in his eyes, before Jack starts to thrust again, forcing Brock to fuck his fist with every punch forward. Brock’s mind is fucking empty, never mind trying to process any thought at all. Fuck is the only thing going through his head right now, although there is a good chance that he’s probably screaming it, who the fuck knows. He feels Jack’s shirt rub up against his back, the cotton feeling like sandpaper, before Jack is biting down on his neck and he hits his climax with the intensity of a fucking volcanic eruption. Jack comes to, spilling his seed deep into Brock’s hole, while still pounding into him. Before long both of them are falling onto the desk, and each other, as Brock’s limbs give out on him.

 

They lay there breathing, like they both just finish a heptathlon, for what feels like fucking years while Brock’s brain spins around like fruit in a blender. He can’t even gather the energy to make a smart ass comment.

 

“Go home,” comes the order, breathed gruffly into his ear. “I’m not gonna finish this with you here.”

 

Brock nods weakly, not truly registering the words, just sort of moving his head along with them.

 

“Oh, and Brock? You better not be fucking dressed when I get back. I haven’t forgot about how exactly I came to be doing all this fucking work,” Jack drawls with a grin on his face, as he feels Brock shudder beneath him. 

  
  
  


.

 


	2. Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh! look a chapter 2. because I am a terrible person. Also Please note the updated tags.

                   As per Jack’s instructions, Brock stripped off his clothes as soon as he walked in the door of the house, not even bothering to throw them in the laundry basket. As far as Brock was concerned, Jack had no business being mad at him. He was just doing what anyone else in his position would do, delegate to their second in command. With that thought running through his skull, Brock decided to hop in the shower before getting re-dressed and heading out for a bit.

* * *

Jack sighed as he walked into their bedroom as soon as he got home, it’s not like Brock pushing the boundaries of their  _ dynamic  _  was anything new. He doesn’t use the power he holds over the other man lightly,some things are meant just for them. Jack however Does Not enjoy coming home to an empty house after very fucking clearly ordering Brock to go home. He Does Not, enjoy finding clothes and goddamn towels thrown all over the fucking floor and Brock been just a little too snarky, and just outright disobedient. Now He could get fucking pissed off and starting storming around and yelling But he won’t. Nah, all Brock has done is dig that fucking hole for himself juuuust a little deeper, and give Jack some time to really give some thought on how to punish him properly.

* * *

When Brock get home MUCH later that night,(it’s more like early morning), He’s too drunk to remember why exactly he should be quiet coming in. He stubs his toe on a corner, as he wrestles off his jacket, and “MOTHERFUCKER!” can be heard probably right down the block. Now limping slightly up the stairs, Brock stumbles into the bedroom and immediately passes out face down on the bed. Not even registering for even a second, that Jack wasn’t there.

* * *

Waking up the next morning was a living hell for Brock. First his head fucking felt like The asset had used it as a punching bag, second he was cold and naked, which was weird because he was pretty sure that he was fully clothed when he came in, thirdly he couldn’t fucking move his arms from their position above his head. As Brock came aware of these things he heard a creak of the floorboard that was set just inside of the doorway to the room. Craning his head to look over , he saw Jack leaning there with arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern as he very calmly states, “ So I guess we need to have a little discussion huh?”

Brock’s eyes widen and his entire body goes tense but he gives a jerky nod, “sure.” he manages.

Pushing off the door frame, Jack stalks towards the bed until he’s looming over Brock. “Tell me what you did wrong.” he demands, voice cold. Instead of answering Brock decides to make the wall directly in front of him his main point of focus. Jack sighs, before threading his hands through Brock’s hair and yanking his head upwards, “Tell.Me.What.You.did.Wrong.” he repeated sharply.

Brock’s fucking eventual reply, is filled with snark, “ I  _ guess,  _ I didn’t do as I was told?”

“Well, would you look at that? You  _ guessed _ right.” Jack drawls right back at him, not rising to the bait, “ I thought we’d already been over this sweetheart, But apparently I was wrong to assume it would stay in your thick, fucking skull.”

Brock’s breathing becomes heavier as he starts to process, just how much absolute shit he was in.

“I’d say I am disappointed in you,” he states cooly, “I’d even say I am surprised, but that means I would have to have expected better from you in the first place.” 

Brock flinches at those words.

Jack’s  _ Almost _ sorry in a way, before he remembers, why they were even here.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why I even bother,” Jack continues, and now he’s just being fucking cruel on purpose. “I know you most likely won’t change. At the beginning, I still thought you could, but now I am not even sure you have the ability.”

Brock’s eyes are now fully glued to Jack’s face and he is very fucking clearly listening now.

“Maybe, I am wasting my time on you. Maybe you Just can’t be taught. God knows that I tried.”

“N-no,” Brock suddenly gasps and it’s clear it wasn’t consciously done.

“No?” Jack asks, raising his eyebrows,“No, I haven’t tried? Is that what you are saying?”

And now, Brock is very clearly getting upset. Honestly worried. Maybe even scared.

“No,” Brock says, his voice rough. “You’ve tried, I know. I know that...”

“What? You saying that all my hard work ain’t been for nothing? You fucking think that you’ve improved?” Jack says, his voice hard.

Brock looks like a frightened kitten on the bed at the moment, his eyes wide and his body trembling. It’s clear to Jack that as of this moment, Brock is replaying the previous night’s events in his head. And judging from the look on his face, it’s starting to look more a horror film.

“I-I don’t know,”he finally says and that admission seems to have cost him a lot. “I don’t know. But please don’t fucking stop trying. P-please don’t. I know I can do better. Can  _ Be _ better.”

“Really?”Jack asks,his voice laced with doubt. “I’m calling bullshit on that Brock. You’ve had so many chances, and ye-.”

“I’m sorry”, Brock interrupts him, voice fervent.Jack is having trouble remembering the last time anyone ever heard Brock apologize like this. “I’m sorry, p-please don’t give up. I-I let me fucking try. Please. Tell me to do something and I can be so fucking good. I can be good. I know it”

Jack smiles, a slow mean thing, before saying, “ you’re gonna have to prove it then. Gonna have to show me you can do as your fucking told.”

With that Jack positions them both so Brock is completely bent over Jack’s lap, His cock, only half hard, pressing into Jack’s thigh and Jack’s big hand weighing down on his neck. Keeping pinned along with the restraints on his wrists. He's curved in such a way that his ass raises right above Jack’s thigh, in the perfect position and, oh so, very, very fucking exposed.  A shiver runs through Brock as he  swallows, before both of Jack's hands are on his body, spreading his legs apar t. Almost gently petting him, Jack runs his hands down Brock’s thighs and then back up again.Jack              goes still for a moment,before, "Good boy," he murmurs, and then wraps one arm around Brock's waist, elbow coming to rest between his shoulder blades, simultaneously holding Brock and making sure that Brock can’t fucking move. O _ h god, oh fuck _ ; this means business, Shit, Brock’s really going to get it now-

Jack's other hand lifts into the air and comes down on Brock's ass with a sharp smack and a  sharper sting that makes him gasp and jolt.It's like the world goes fucking still for a moment, breathless, until Jack lifts his hand again and brings it down on Brock's ass with another stinging slap. And it hurts,Oh fuck yes it hurts; Brock feels his skin heating up, and it feels like his mind, his entire body both go to full attention and at the same time fucking relaxes. His entire being is focused on Jack's hand, gently caressing Brock's tingling skin before lifting up and coming back down on him with another stinging smack. And Jack is not tentative about it at all. He could honestly do damage to Brock like this, but no, oh no, he's giving it to Brock, good and hard. Hard enough that sparks are tingling underneath Brock's skin, pooling in the pit of his belly and shooting up his spine, into his limbs. He's gonna have bruises from this, and fuck if that realization doesn't have him moaning.

"Good boy," Jack croons, hand coming down on Brock's skin in a steady rhythm now, his ass, his thighs, every fucking slap a delicious sting. His skin feels like it's on fire and every now and then Jack will keep his hand there after it comes down, caress him gently and Brock is so sensitized that every touch, every bit of contact feels heavy, sharp, makes him tremble.

"Look at you, taking it so beautifully," Jack murmurs, and a sob escapes Brock then.

Jack doesn't even fucking pause. He just keeps going, stinging slaps against Brock's scorching skin and it feels so goddamn good, hurts so good, and Brock sobs again, vision going blurry.

"Such a good fucking boy," Jack breathes, hand petting Brock's ass and his skin is on fire but he still tries to push into the touch, only hindered by Jack’s firm grip on him. 

And just like that, Jack stops. No warning, just fucking stops.

 

“Now you better be listening really fucking carefully because I will not repeat myself. I want you looking up at me. I want you asking for my fucking cock. I want you using that smart mouth of yours to convince me that you deserve my cock. And only if I am one hundred percent confident that you deserve it, you will suck it. You will not come. This is about you showing me that you can follow my lead, that you can obey orders. This is not about you or your pleasure, but mine.” Jack pauses for a breath, “Have.I.Made.Myself.Clear?”

“Yes” Brock breathes, “Perfectly.”

“Good. Get started then.”

Now most people would be surprised how subdued Brock can look. How submissive. How eager to please. Jack sincerely doubts there has be anyone to have seen this side of him, and that sends such a rush of fucking power through him.

“Please,” Brock says and his voice is simply perfect. He doesn’t sound demanding, he doesn’t sound arrogant, not even slightly, all the cockiness from the night before, gone.Instead, it sounds timid. Timid and so damn eager and Jack feels himself respond, feels himself grow hard.How can he not fucking react? Brock like this - pliant, subdued, eyes so full of trust, seeking for reassurance - Jack will always have a hard fucking time resisting this.

“Please, let me suck you,” Brock says, and his voice had adapted a pleading pitch.“Please. I’ll be so good. I’ll use my tongue, I am very good with it. I have a clever tongue, I’ve been told before. I’d make it feel so good. I can swallow your cock, I’ll swallow it whole. You can make me gag, I don’t care. I want you to. I want you to feel like you can use me. You can. You can fuck my mouth until you come. I want it. Please. I promise I’ll be good, you’ll enjoy it. Please.”

And fuck if that isn’t the most absolutely arousing thing to hear Brock say, just because it sounds so unlike his everyday persona, it’s just - so completely devoted.It’s heady.It’s almost fucking humbling.

Jack unbuttons his pants and unzips his fly.

“Let’s see what you can do,” he says, voice rough with arousal, and Brock nearly topples over, (but his wrists being tied to the fucking headboard prevent that) in his eagerness to get closer.

Jack, of course, doesn’t make it easy for him. Brock needs a minute to coax out Jack’s hardness, and Jack doesn’t do a thing to help him along.Finally, though, Brock succeeds in slipping Jack’s hardening cock free. Jack expects him to go for it right away, but Brock doesn’t. Instead, he sends another, almost reverent gaze upwards.

The look is so damn thankful that Jack has half a mind to stop the session and get them both off while kissing Brock as sweetly as he could possibly fucking manage.But that’s not what today is about. No,today is about making sure Brock knows why he doesn’t fucking piss Jack off. It’s about reminding him what happens when he acts out and takes off against orders.So instead, Jack curls a firm hand around the back of Brock’s head and gives him but a second to position himself properly before pulling him forward sharply.

Hand curled firmly into Brock’s hair, he doesn’t give him much time or leverage to adjust. Instead, he forces him down on his flushed cock until Brock’s lips brush against coarse dark hair.

Of course, it feels so fucking amazing, but even more rewarding is Brock trying to make it work even as he gags, the way he’s trying to use his tongue in ways to let Jack have more friction.

There’s nothing egocentric, nothing arrogant or bossy in the way Brock sucks Jack off. Brock is so goddamn eager for Jack to enjoy himself, and really, that’s all that counts.

When Jack finally allows him to slip off a bit, Brock’s eyes are suspiciously wet and his face flushed.

“Very good,” he allows and, hearing the encouragement, Brock moves back forward on his own.

He excels at this, of course he does. Jack made sure of it. Jack ceases to lead him, his hand merely a firm weight on the back of Brock’s head as the other swallows and licks eagerly, by now perfectly aware what brings Jack the most enjoyment. Brock knows how to tease the glands, how to shape his lips for optimal pressure, where to nuzzle Jack’s balls and soft skin to make it feel perfect. Jack’s orgasm is sudden, hard and Brock swallows every last drop of semen like it’s a precious gift, licking his lips afterwards as if to prove his point.

Jack breathes lightly, simply enjoying the rush of endorphins and on the bed, Brock look tense, or even especially eager anymore. Instead, he seems entirely relaxed.Brock is still hard, but Jack has set this up not to be reciprocal. He wants Brock to remember that this is Punishment, but for now, though, they simply lie together, Jack’s hands brushing over Brock’s bare back, enjoying how pliant the other man is right now.  How seemingly content he is, despite the fact that he still hasn’t found his release. Some part of Brock knows that it could be awhile before Jack tells him it’s okay to come. But for now, he simply enjoys laying there as Jack releases his hands, and the blood starts to flow through his arms properly.

Jack has no illusions that this will have been the last of it, that Brock will remember this as a permanent lesson, but he he is more than willing to help him remember his place.

“Rest up, Darling,” Jacks breathes, “ because we are nowhere near done yet. This was just for that stunt with the extra work, we still have to address you taking off on me.” And Jack would be lying, if he said that he didn’t enjoy the feeling of Brock trembling at that.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on that wonderful site called Tumblr! :)

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on Tumblr @neutralchaos915 :-)


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